


Touch

by dancergrl1



Category: Flashpoint (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Massage, Touch Therapy, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 07:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19127266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancergrl1/pseuds/dancergrl1
Summary: Sam learns touch can heal, as much as it can hurt.He doesn't know how to handle casual touch, but put him in a position that he's defending himself or others and he's just fine.





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> So my original thought was that Sam had a migraine and Jules' touch was help in itself. Then it morphed into a kind of touch therapy sort of story.

Sam tried to ignore the pain. It was still bearable. If he said something, it would mean he was benched. 

He hated being benched. 

He refocused on the subject. He couldn’t lose focus now. 

It seemed like only minutes later when Sarge called “Subject Secure.” Sam packed up his gun methodically, steadfastly ignoring the pain in his head. One step at a time, he descended the blessedly din stairs. He braced himself for the onslaught of pain and chaos that was coming his was. 

He was glad he did. The flashing lights, sirens, and crowd murmurs accosted him all at once. The pain was nearly unbearable. Sam ignored his team and the crowd and walked, one step at a time, to put the case in the SUV. He slumped into the passenger seat, unable to find the drive to move anymore. He was just...drained. 

Jules clamored into the driver’s seat, and he couldn’t hold back the wince at the noise. 

“Sam?” Her voice, soft though it was, assaulted his ears.

Jules was worried. Sam had been concerningly quiet for the second half of the call. It wasn’t like him. 

She lowered her voice. “Sam?” 

He wasn’t sure what to do. If he admitted he was in pain, he’d be benched, if not sent home. If he didn’t, it could be a better day, but the pain could increase exponentially. 

“Sorry Jules. Just tired.” His response was flippant and they both knew it. 

The ride to the barn was quiet. Sam was grateful for it. He just needed to make it to the showers. If he could make it there, he could make it through the rest of shift. 

As Jules pulled in, he sent a silent thank you to whoever was listening. It had been quick and painless. 

He mumbled something towards Jules and beat a hasty retreat. He got in the shower as he heard the rest of the team pile in. He tilted his head into the spray, massaging the base of his neck. He wanted relief from the pain pounding in his head and behind his eyes. Something just needed to give. 

He stayed in the shower as long as was plausible. He dragged himself out and dressed, slipping two ibuprofen down dry as he dressed. He straightened his shoulders and walked towards the briefing room, sitting down quietly. He let the banter flow around him instead of joining in. He just needed to get through this. 

A familiar warm hand found the tightesest spot at the base of his neck and gently started working at it. He nearly groaned when it started to release and it felt less like there was something buried in the base of his neck and driving into his skull. 

He put and hand on top of hers and stilled it for a moment, catching her eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. It was all they could do here, while with the team. 

She rubbed a loving thumb over the knuckles of his hand, reminding him that she was there for him. They stepped away from the windows, rejoining the team. 

Debrief was simple, at least for Sam. He didn’t play an active role in the call, so he wasn’t really needed. The shift had ended during the call, and they were free to go home after debrief. Sam was packed and ready to go before Jules was, they met by the desk and left together. 

Their ride home was silent, sam slumped against the window dozing. He was just drained. 

Jules was worried. He didn’t normally act this way, and he wasn’t himself. 

Their arrival home was marked by Sam bolting to the house, and disappearing before Jules could even get the bags out of the car. She stowed them safely and then ent to find him. 

She found him curled up with his head buried in the pillows, curtains drawn and lights out. 

“Migraine?” Jules knew before she asked. He didn’t get them often, but when he did, they could be debilitating. The barely-there nod told her what steps she needed to hit next. She filled a glass with cold water and set it on the bedside table, and grabbed two sets of pills from their bathroom. One was ibuprofen, a full dose, and the other was acetaminophen, to combat the inflammation. She also grabbed a washcloth and a small bowl of water. They kept these in the bathroom for these days. 

Sam pretended they didn’t exist. 

Jules came back into the room quietly, knowing his noise sensitivity was through the roof. “Sam,” she whispered. She didn’t make it a question. Even though he was practically incoherent, he always followed orders. He propped his eyes open and took the pills from her hands. At her insistent look, he took an extra few swallows. He handed the cup back and curled back into himself. She put the things within easy reach and curled around him. 

They dozed in and out for hours, and Jules was grateful they didn’t need the bowl. It was late before Jules recognized the signs of the migraine wearing off. The lines around his eyes were less pinched, and the tension had flowed out of him. “Sam?” Jules was still quiet, lest she hurt him more. 

He stirred, and his first thought was thank god that he didn’t hurt anymore. The feeling of something driving into his head was gone, and the tension was the only thing hindering his function. 

“Jules?” His voice was rough, and dry. 

Jules let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. If Sam could talk to her and recognize where he was and what was going on, the migraine must have been easing off. “Hey, Sam. Way to give a girl a scare.” Her voice was teasing, but there was tension behind it. 

Sam winced. He hadn’t meant to scare her. It was just the way this migraine had presented itself. 

Jules slipped out of the bed and came back with a warm washcloth and a small bottle. Sam looked at it, then glanced at her with a question in his eyes. “Trust me.” 

It wasn’t a question. Sam nodded, eyes slipping shut on their own. He was exhausted. 

Jules straddled his back and dripped the oil onto her fingers. Rubbing it slowly, she felt it begin to warm. She slowly began to massage the middle of his shoulders, and he tensed further. 

“Relax, Sam. Trust me.” Her tone was imploring, and Sam consciously relaxed his muscles. Jules smiled and rubbed a hand through his hair. 

“Thank you, Sam.” She continued her ministrations, paying careful attention to the muscles running up into his skull and around the sides of his head. She patiently worked out the knots she found, working down into his shoulders and his back. She felt the difference when he fell asleep. She continued rubbing and pushing for a while more, making sure everything she could find was worked out and relaxed. She wiped off his back and her fingers on the washcloth, and curled back next to him. 

Jules thought he was asleep, so hearing a quiet “Thank you, Jules,” was a shock to her.

“Of course, Sam.” 

As her hand stroked lazy circles on his back, she thought back over the times he’d interacted with casual touch with the team. When he first got to SRU, he shied away from the attaboy pat on the backs, the high fives from a successful call, and the man hugs after a tough call. 

Curiously, he was perfectly comfortable with the hand to hand combat training Wordy ran them through. He knew what to do when he was blocking a punch or parrying a knife-carrying opponent. 

Jules’ filter wasn’t working, and her next thought slipped out unbidden. “You’re learning,” she whispered. 

Sam rolled over towards her. “Learning?” 

Jules looked him in the eye. “Yes. Learning touch can heal, as much as it can hurt.” 

Sam pulled her close to him. She always knew what just he needed. He was so lucky, no, blessed, to find her. Her hands went over his shoulders lightly, and he held her tightly. 

Touch could heal. He was learning, slowly, it wasn’t supposed to hurt at all.


End file.
